


just like atlas

by endereyeseyeseyes



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Divinity, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Blood and Injury, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Internal Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29789778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endereyeseyeseyes/pseuds/endereyeseyeseyes
Summary: He goes to bed with the sensation that someone had given Blood to the Blood God.And then he wakes up in cell.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 222





	just like atlas

**Author's Note:**

> explicitly set after tommy's stream from today because Oh My God
> 
> also set in an au where techno and dream are both gods but are pretending they aren't because you know, fun and flavor and there's no other way for them to actually talk in universe etc etc etc
> 
> clearly not rpf just their characters, but ill say it anyway

Before Technoblade goes to bed that night, he feels that special particular feeling on the back of his neck. 

He doesn't get it that much, not anymore anyway, not since the last minor act of major terrorism. People have mellowed, to some extent. Or maybe they were just tired. Techno stretches, hair lose and armor finally off before getting into bed. He could understand being tired. 

But the feeling on the back of his neck, like warmth, just an echoing of a divinity he tries so very hard to ignore, like burning. The voices are silent, for once, but he doesn't need them to know when someone has given Blood to the Blood God. Has given Blood to Him. Good for them, whoever they are. It's good to indulge, every now and again. Nothing that out of the ordinary. Nothing worth mentioning.

So, he goes to bed. 

His house is quiet, now that Phil lives next door instead of downstairs, and sleep comes even easier than usual. 

Everything is quiet. 

Everyone is tired. 

And then he's standing in a little obsidian cube, and the rock bleeds purple right down the front of his mask.

“Hah” He says, because even he's not crazy enough to sleep in one. His body feels big, taking up more space then usual which means this isn't a normal dream but a divine visitation, and he's just about ready to start telling whatever idiot summoned him that he doesn't really Do this anymore, when he sees Dream sprawled out on the floor. 

“Hey.” He says, and he's bigger too, his own mask barely covering his face.

(The only time Technoblade has seen Dream bigger, divine, was when Dream had come to threaten him in his own house. Techno didn't appreciate it then, and he definitely doesn't appreciate it now. But that was a while ago. It only throws him a little, seeing someone else like this. Taking up more space than anyone ever really should.)

His hands are covered in red. Still wet, still dripping. 

Maybe it's because Techno is here.

Maybe because god Blood just _does_ that.

“You know you can just call if you need something.” Just two asshole gods in a cube, so Techno stops posturing and lets his shoulders relax. Dream's a mess but he's a mess Techno's at least somewhat used to dealing with. “You don't need to-” He waves a hand at the Blood that still drips down Dream's knuckles. “Bring out the gifts.” 

They're not friends, not really.

(Maybe they could be.)

“I didn't-” He sighs in frustration, which is normal. “This isn't for you.” 

“Yeah well. I'm here anyway.” He kicks at Dream's side lightly. “Who was it?”

“Hm.” He says and nothing more. 

“Where are you?” 

“Prison.” 

“Who'd you kill in prison?” 

“Hm.” He says again, and nothing more. For a while at least. Techno looks around, walks the few steps to a wall of lava. The suggestion of warmth with none of the follow through. “Would you be mad?”

“About what? That I'm not going to be rested in the morning? I don't sleep that much anyway.” He says because the other god sounds like he needs a win. He can be nice. He can be civil. “Not like we need it.” 

“Yeah.” Dream sighs. “Haven't slept in a week.” 

“So that's why I had peace and quiet.” 

“You know I'm not- I don't actually- It's just my name.”

“Obviously.” He's not a god of sleep or dreams or anything nice and hopeful. Techno doesn't actually know what he's the god of- Dream had never bothered to tell him. Techno didn't care enough to bother him about it.

(War maybe. Or chaos. Or pettiness.)

“But no- about the sleep thing. Would you be mad if it was someone you knew?” 

“Dream.” He says and turns back and looks at the blank mask. “Did you beat someone I knew to death with your bare hands?” 

There's almost a smile on his face, because it's ridiculous and stupid and almost _funny_.

Silence for a moment. 

“Maybe.” 

“Doesn't really seem like a maybe.” 

“Would you be mad if it was Tommy?” 

Something in him breaks, just a little bit.

Techno looks at the Blood that keeps dripping and pooling from Dream's hands. Red and metallic. It takes him longer than he's willing to admit to realize that Dream's knuckles are busted open, split in something that would have been worship- if it was anyone else. The Blood that accumulates underneath him stains Dream's clothes. 

“Maybe.” Techno says because it's easier to focus on the Blood then it is on the clenching in his chest. 

The way his ribcage, or whatever he has rattling around in there, tightens and tightens and tightens. 

“Doesn't really seem like a maybe.” Dream shoots back and sits up, finally. Techno's bigger than him. Techno's here in a divine visitation so his weapons and his armor are on him like longer limbs, like a second skin. 

He could kill him. 

It wouldn't even be that hard. 

Technoblade shrugs. 

Just like Atlas. 

He'll tell Phil tomorrow, and Ranboo probably already knows. Everyone else will find out on their own time and he can continue to pretend that he's the disaffected ex-god on vacation. That Tommy was just a traitor that didn't care about him. 

“Do you really think I'd care?” 

“...No. Guess I didn't.” 

“It's been great catching up.” He says, fist so tight on the pommel of his sword his knuckles are turning white. “Let me know when you want to cash that favor in.” 

Dream just nods quietly. 

He wonders how out of character it would be to ask if Dream cared. If he felt guilty about murdering a child. About splitting his knuckles. 

And then he woke up in his bed, like he hadn't slept at all.

**Author's Note:**

> comments always appreciated


End file.
